


Algebra

by sexywiddlebaby



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: College/University, Emotional Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Short & Sweet, Student!Ohm, Suggestive Themes, Teacher!Max, the most generic premise but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexywiddlebaby/pseuds/sexywiddlebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ohm has been moved math groups now that he finds it ridiculously easy, but of course he gets landed with the hot teacher. Test day came and went, and it's time for the results...</p><p>[010]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Algebra

**Author's Note:**

> (I do use Ohm's name a few times, but for a good reason.)  
> Please, enjoy.

"Quiet, please."  
Mr. Gonzalez adjusts his eyeglasses, sliding them up the robust bridge of his nose. He looks like he could be dressed for a formal event - a simple white, buttoned shirt with silver cuffs, tan chinos and a similar shade of cotton jacket. It may be just another tepid school day, but damn, that doesn't mean he shouldn't dress to impress. He rises off his crooked wooden chair, which was positioned perpendicular to the paper-covered desk, and taps the chalkboard lightly with his knuckle to calm the class down.

"Now, I've graded your test papers that you completed for me last week. Most of you did very well, and I'm proud of you for that. Some of you didn't study in the slightest, and your paper reflects it," Mr. G instructs, locking eye-contact with some of the regular troublemakers.

Ohm wonders if the class can drag on any slower, but then thinks he doesn't want to test that theory. Ever since he got transferred math class because he started understanding algebra, he's been stuck with one of the handsomest teachers in school, and the world probably, which has done nothing but provoke problems. Everything about him makes Ohm not pay attention to his work, and instead math becomes the allocated slot of "swoon over your teacher". He thought he liked math.

After giving the old-fashioned revision lecture, Mr. G drifts between the aisles of desks and slaps papers to them. He occasionally mutters generic praises or passes the students with an uncomfortable silence - something which meant poorly. Ohm grows exceedingly restless in his equally deformed chair, masked with years of broken hopes and failed studies. It seems like a century passes between each time he blinks, something he is actively counting, because at least that's a somewhat math-related task to do while he waits for the bell to ring. A sudden hit of fragrance wafts past him.

Ohm snaps back to the real world, noticing the newly arrived papers on his desk. He was pretty confident with what he handed in, so wasted no time in turni-  
"I got an F?!" Ohm shouts in his mind. His heartbeat races.  
"This has got to be a mistake," his heart reassures him. Ohm's pulse rises and hands tremble, but he flicks through the exam. All he manages to see is the red crosses littering each page, with a rare one mark being given for anything.  
"No, no, no..." Ohm mutters aloud, sinking into his desk.

It was the first time he wanted to cry in a long time.

The rest of the period flies by as Ohm wallows in sadness.  
"There's got to be something I can do..."

****RING!****

The professor snaps his attention to the clock, knitting his eyebrows in frustration.

"It seems I've lost track of time. We'll continue this next week then," Max suggests, swinging his classroom door open. The stampede of rowdy teenagers rush out the room and into the corridor, barging through the crowds of slow walkers. Ohm remains alone, sitting with all his equipment splayed on his desk.

"That includes you, young man. Come on, off you go!"  
Mr. Gonzalez flails his arms with joy, indicating the many methods Ohm could use to exit the classroom, but notices he's completely unresponsive.  
"Hey, what's happening, huh?"  
Mr. G kneels beside Ohm's desk, his soft and warming eyes directed to the shambles Ohm has reduced himself to. Ohm continues to pity himself, leaving Max to turn over his test paper to reveal the failure stamp.

"I thought I did everything right, Mr. Gonzalez..."  
"You can call me Max, you know. You're the new kid on the block, right? Uh, R..Reese, wasn't it?"  
"Ryan," Ohm corrects him.  
"Right, Ryan. Look, not everything is about test grades. We both obviously know you can do this test well, otherwise you wouldn't have moved here."

Ryan fights back his mixed emotions to try and talk some sense. "How come I failed, then?"  
"It was a few silly mistakes repeated a lot, mostly. Like here-"  
Max flips through the paper to one of the simpler questions, pointing to it with his finger. "You just mixed up your negatives here."  
Ryan wipes the tear running down his cheek away with the back of his hand. Max grabs his wrist before Ryan can put it back by his side. Their gazes lock.

"Don't worry about it, okay? I'd rather you made this mistake now than for your final exam."  
Max uses his free hand to delve inside his blazer, putting a packet of tissues on Ryan's desk for him to use.  
"Thanks, sir," Ryan blubbers, reaching for a tissue.  
"Max, remember?"  
"Oh, sorry...Max..."

An awkward silence follows whilst Ryan uses a tissue to dry his face a little and blow his nose.

"I noticed you get distracted a lot in class as well, Ryan. Can you tell me about that?" Max asks, still in a friendly tone.  
Ryan's cheeks instantly flush red as he uses the tissue to cover his mouth. His mind doesn't want to lie, but after this conversation, what would happen if he told the truth? No, he couldn't lie. This teacher just let him use his first name and gave him a tissue for crying out loud - don't lie to him!  
"I..." Ryan stammers.  
Max smirks. "You can tell me anything, Ryan."  
The perfect breathy voice vibrates around his eardrums, and Ryan basks in the heated shame he gets from savouring the sound. If only it wasn't illegal, he would definitely-

"Ryan?"  
"Oh, right, sorry, sir. I mean! Max! Um..."  
Max's face still shines with patience and comfort. Ryan desperately doesn't want to ruin this...  
"I...fancy you a little too much."

Max smiles wider, rocking Ryan's hand up and down in his grip. He doesn't seem taken aback at all.  
"That's okay, Ryan. I understand that teenagers have those feelings sometimes for their teachers. It just means you trust me."  
A wave of relief smashes into Ryan's pounding heart.  
"Obviously I can't fulfill your desires, but I can still encourage you to learn. So please, don't feel bad because you made a few mistakes on this test. That's how we learn and develop into better people."

Max proceeds to help Ryan pack his equipment back into his bag.  
"Promise me I haven't stopped you from becoming a better person."  
Ryan turns back to Max, and wholly agrees, then resumes tidying up. He slings his rucksack over his shoulder, and hands the tissue packet back to his teacher.  
"Thanks, sir."  
Max nudges Ryan's arm.  
"Oh yeah...thanks, Max."

Ryan waddles out of the classroom, waving Max a goodbye.


End file.
